


and i run from wolves

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Series: i'll be the blood (if you'll be the bone) [11]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Demon Hunters, M/M, Mates, McHanzo Week, McHanzo Week 2016, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Van Helsing AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Things go horribly wrong on what should be a routine scouting mission when the hunter becomes the hunted.





	

Jesse is never, ever letting Hanzo out of his sight again.

Two hours passed their agreed upon meeting time and there’s still no sign of Hanzo anywhere. Jesse’s had time to grab a decent meal and a pint. But Hanzo is nowhere to be seen and it’s starting to worry him; Hanzo’s never late to a meeting. When Jesse rolled into the small square of Small Town Somewhere in Bavaria, he’d expected to find Hanzo already waiting for him.

But… there had been no Hanzo.

By now, Jesse knows that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what to call it, maybe a hunter’s sixth sense? Whatever it is, it’s telling Jesse that he needs to get moving and _fast_. He slaps down enough to cover his bill, then leaves the pub in a swirl of his leather duster for the mist of early evening.

If he hurries, he should manage to intercept Hanzo’s projected route. Before he climbs onto his horse, Jesse checks the map, tracing the route that they had outlined a day prior. The last stop that Hanzo would have made would have been a small village a little ways south of his current location.

Folding up the map and tucking it back into his pack, Jesse swings himself up into the saddle.

“Careful stranger,” a man says.

Jesse looks at him, seeing an older man whose hair has begun to go white. He asks, “Careful?”

The old man glances around, then leans forward. Jesse leans down so that the old man can whisper conspiratorially to him. “There are vampires in these parts. They caught one just down south of here in Nebel – put him to the cross in the churchyard, they did.”

His blood runs cold.

“Nebel, you say?” Jesse speaks through lips that have gone numb. “Thanks, I’ll make sure to steer clear of there.”

“Safe travels.”

_Shit_.

There weren’t supposed to be vampires in the countryside round here. It has to be Hanzo. He shouldn’t have let him out of his sight. Hanzo stands out enough as it is, but even more so on his own. _Shit_. He hadn’t been thinking; all Jesse had wanted was to get the job done and over with as quickly as possible.

He nudges the sides of his horse, which answers by breaking out into a quick run. If he pushes himself and the horse hard enough, he should make it to Nebel within three hours. After that, he’ll have to make for Munich with Hanzo and pray that the man can travel that far.

_Put him to the cross_.

He’s seen Hanzo take a bullet before. He’ll be fine. He has to be.

Jesse keeps repeating that, _he’ll be fine he’ll be fine_ , over and over in his head as he sets out at for a long hard ride to Nebel. All the while, he continually sends prayers to a god he no longer believes in that when he arrives, Hanzo will still be alive.

He spends the hours long ride worrying, imagining all sorts of horrific scenarios that could have befallen Hanzo in his absence. All this despite the man having _said_ what they did. _Put him to the cross_. But that could mean anything. The superstitions regarding vampires and how to deal with them are so diverse that Jesse isn’t sure if that means they slapped him with a crucifix or… nailed him up like Christ himself.

Jesse _really_ hopes that it’s the former.

For safety, he leaves his horse a safe distance from Nebel in a tiny clearing that’s not really a clearing. He draws Peacekeeper from its holster, holding it at the ready as he slowly makes his way through the forest towards the village.

The first thing he spots is the steeple of the small church. It’s easy to see through the gaps in the trees, lit up by the faintly glowing light of two lanterns near its large, wooden doors. Spilling out to its side, and only _just_ coming into sight is the village’s sprawling graveyard.

Jesse’s first thought is: _That is one ugly ass scarecrow_. It’s quickly followed by: _Scarecrows don’t belong in graveyards_.

Realization creeps in, slow and horrifying. Jesse pauses on the edge of the graveyard, staring in growing horror at the sight before him.

It’s Hanzo. Strung up like a scarecrow, nailed to a rough cross like Christ himself, and left hanging in the middle of the village graveyard.

From this distance, Jesse can’t tell how bad Hanzo’s injuries are. He has to get closer, but the one thing he knows for certain is that Hanzo has lost _a lot_ of blood. The stench of iron is pungent and carries through the air. It’s an unusually still night, making the smell linger.

Jesse hops the low fence and darts across the graveyard as quickly as he can. He doesn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t meant that no one’s about, making sure that the vampire stays where they left him. Likely, they’ve strung him up until dawn comes, when theoretically the sun should turn him to ash; they’ll be in for a mighty surprise, then.

There’s no sight of anyone in the graveyard. Jesse reholsters Peacekeeper, if only so that he can have both his hands free.

Getting closer, the stench of blood gets stronger and Jesse nearly gags. He covers his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, but the smell is so strong that it makes his eyes water. Once he’s close enough to Hanzo to make out the damage, he nearly vomits. His boots squelch in the bloody mud.

There’s two large nails hammered into the palms of Hanzo’s hands. He’s been stripped down to little more than his thin white shirt and pants, bare feet also nailed to the cross he’s been strung up on. A stake has been driven clean through the left side of his chest – _missed the heart, hit a lung most likely_ – and blood stains the entirety of the front of his chest.

Hanzo’s eyes twitch. He draws a single ragged breath, eyes flickering open briefly. The normally bright, glow has dimmed, and Jesse doesn’t know if Hanzo can even see him at this point.

“Je...sse…?”

“Shhh, it’s gonna be alright, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

They haven’t left a noose about Hanzo’s neck. That’s good. But they slit it. It’s a poor job, though, which is likely why Hanzo is still alive.

He has still lost a _lot_ of blood.

“D… don’t…”

“It’s going to be alright. I’m going to get you out of this.”

He has no way to stop all the bleeding he knows will happen when he pulls out the stake and the nails. All he can hope for is that Hanzo’s retained just enough of his healing factor to be able to handle it until Jesse can get him out of the graveyard and the safety of the woods.

“I’m gonna pull out the stake first, alright love?” Jesse’s whispering more to himself than he is to Hanzo at this point. But it’s all that’s keeping his badly fractured nerves in check. And keeping him from vomiting. “Then the nails. It’s going to be fine; I’ll get you out of this. You’re going to be fine.”

_You can’t leave me now. Please don’t leave me now_.

The stake is tacky with blood when Jesse grips it. Hanzo makes a noise that sounds far too much like a wounded animal when Jesse pulls it free. There’s very little blood when it comes free. That’s worrying. There should be much more.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Jesse says. “Please just hold on a little longer, love. Once we’re in the forest, you can feed. I promise. Anything you need.”

Hanzo’s gone quiet. His eyes are still open, glazed over and Jesse panics.

He presses a frantic hand to Hanzo’s chest. There’s a faint, weak flutter in response, as though Hanzo’s heart knows what Jesse’s seeking.

The relief is short lived. Jesse feels heavy, sleepy, and realizes that he needs to move faster. Hanzo is fading and fading fast. And if Hanzo goes, so will he.

Jesse’s fingers lip in the congealed blood when he goes for the nails that have been driven through Hanzo’s feet. It takes him too long to get a good grip on them and they come out of Hanzo’s flesh with a sickening squelching noise. Blood oozes out, slowly, and drips to the ground.

He ignores that and drops the nails from gradually numbing fingers. It’s harder to remove the ones from Hanzo’s hands, because he has to stretch upwards to be able to get a good grip on them. Eventually, they come free with that same horrible noise that makes bile race up Jesse’s throat, burning his throat and he has to swallow it back down. He can’t be sick – not now.

Hanzo needs him. That’s all that matters.

When Hanzo falls into his arms, Jesse nearly hits the ground. The dirt around the cross is so saturated with Hanzo’s blood that it’s turned into a filthy and bloody patch of sucking mud. He stumbles under the sudden weight and it takes him several long, uncomfortable seconds before he’s certain that he’s got a good enough grip on Hanzo to risk making a beeline for the shelter of the forest.

Jesse isn’t as fast as he would like, but he makes like the Devil himself is on his heels. He needs to get Hanzo back to where he stashed his horse. He can take care of the worst of it there, Jesse tells himself.

Blood. Hanzo will need blood. His blood.

Jesse is well aware that he’s risking his life, but he doesn’t care. He trusts Hanzo, knows that he will stop before he comes close to killing him. Their lives are joined now; neither can live while the other perishes, that sort of shit. He knew what he was getting into when he accepted that exchange of blood so many months ago.

This time, he needs to help Hanzo.

He only risks glancing back once he’s managed to manipulate the both of them over the fence without jostling Hanzo too much.

There are more torches lit than there were before.

_Shit_.

Hanzo must have been trying to warn him that the villagers were watching and waiting, just in case someone came to save him. Likely, they’d been expecting a thrall – not Jesse and definitely not the hunter that is Hanzo’s _mate_.

It requires a quick and easy, for Jesse at least, change of plans.

He reaches his horse in a matter of minutes, having stormed his way through the underbrush to get there. Boosting Hanzo up into the saddle, Jesse climbs swiftly up after him, shrugging out of his heavy, leather overcoat and draping it over Hanzo’s shoulders as best he can.

Then, he kicks his horse into a fast run.

They need to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Jesse keeps one hand on the reins, the other keeping Hanzo pressed up against him. It’s awkward. Hanzo’s head lolls about, nearly smashing up into Jesse’s jaw more than once. But he can’t stop to adjust him, they need to put as much distance between themselves and Nebel as possible before daybreak.

Hanzo only needs to last a little longer.

Jesse prays that he will make it.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Prompt:** Role Reversal  
>  **Words:** 1904 words
> 
> MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. ENJOY THE CLIFFHANGER BECAUSE I AM, IN FACT, KIND OF A DICK. :D
> 
> Yes, I realize that I'm a day late with this one, but I'm gonna make up for it, I promise. I've got the rest of the week planned out, so it's just a matter of finishing up the various fics for it and any other loose ends that have ended up happening since I started this. Just know that even though the week might be drawing to an end, this series definitely _isn't_. I've still got ideas for it and plans, so it's certainly not the end. I fucked up and I fucked up spectacularly and fully recognize that I'm never gonna be able to leave now. Oops.
> 
> As always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://graysonflynn.tumblr.com/) where I neither bite and am, in fact, a complete and utter dork. You should hit me up if you want to.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [and i run from wolves - Hanzo POV](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295562) by [shepardly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepardly/pseuds/shepardly)




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